


Sacrificed Idealism

by AtPK



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:58:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtPK/pseuds/AtPK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nile Dawk Positivity Week Drabble: Caring (Day 3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrificed Idealism

Nile sometimes walked among the people, anonymous. Sometimes, depending on his purpose, he’d take the girls with him; they always loved the bustle and colour of the Capital. Sometimes, when he suspected something particularly underhand, he’d go alone. It always surprised him how many of his own soldiers didn’t even recognise him without the uniform.

He understood the delicate balance, of course he did; he’d had to work damned hard to get to where he was; he’d been at every echelon of the Military Police, and had partook in the benefits of what the title meant. It wasn’t until he’d become Commander, however, that he’d finally understood all of it.

The Military Police. Official puppets to the King.

It had shocked him at first that the corruption within the ranks was known by the King, was in fact sanctioned by the King, and to top it off the King even got a percentage of all profits gained from the criminal activities. Within hours of him being made Commander, he’d been summoned into a private audience with the King.

He’d entered the room an idealist, full of hope for the changes he was going to make. He’d left the room with his hands tied and mouth gagged, figuratively speaking. The King had explained it to him in simple terms; there had to be incentives, there had to be compromises, there had to be assurances. The King explained that it took a certain type to person to make it into the Military Police; they were the succeeders, the go-getters, the top of the crop. The King needed to entice those types of people, ‘the potential troublemakers’, to him; they couldn’t just be allowed to go anywhere; the King wanted them within his walls, where he could keep an eye on them, and keep them on a tight leash; giving them just enough so that they thought they were free, when in reality they were just sitting pretty in his pocket, while at the same time lining his pocket with gold.

The King explaining that the Military Police was no place for idealists, the idealists went to Scouting Legion, and then died; which was fine with him. The Military Police was a place for the ruthless self-preservers, for the people who toed the line. Unfortunate things had been known to happen to people who didn’t toe the line; unfortunate things had been known to happen to both them, and their families.

Nile was going to toe the line, wasn’t he? Nile was happy with his position, wasn’t he? Nile wasn’t an idealistic fool, who wanted to change anything, was he? Because if he was, that would be unfortunate.

Erwin hadn’t understood why Nile was sitting back and doing fuck all about what was happening, and Nile hadn’t been able to explain that it went all the way up to the King, and so their friendship had fractured. Erwin had told him one evening after they’d been drinking a little more then they probably should have been drinking for a work night, that he ‘was a selfish arsehole, who didn’t fucking care about anything other than himself.’ They hadn’t so much as even looked at each for six months after that.

But Erwin was wrong. Nile did care. It’s just that his hands were tied and his mouth was gagged, figuratively speaking.

Nile watched from a distance, the rough encounter between his soldiers and the shopkeeper; racketeering was common place, protection money, they called it; but obviously the shopkeeper didn’t have enough to cover what was being asked, and instead of just taking what he had to offer, which would have been acceptable, one of his soldiers decided to beat the man in the street, as a warning to others perhaps, and that was unacceptable.

There was nothing he could do at that point, other than offer assistance once his soldiers had moved on, helping the shopkeeper back into his home where his wife and children waited with large scared eyes. Nile helped to make the man comfortable and gave them the money from his own pocket to replace the money that had been taken by his soldiers.

The wife had hugged him and thanked him and asked for his name so that she could make amends to him in the future, but he had edged away from her, telling her that she owed him nothing, it was he who owed her. She didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter.

The next day, when he was back in uniform and safely seated behind his desk, he called for the soldier who had beaten the shopkeeper. The man had been professional and courteous, his salute impeccable, but all of it had slipped when Nile asked for his gear and stripped him of his jacket, telling him that there was no longer a place for him in the Military Police.

The man had looked at him like he’d gone mad, sputtering and protesting, but Nile didn’t need to give him any reason for his decision. In the end he’d merely looked the man dead in the eye and said to him, cold and efficient: “I will have you forcibly removed, if you do not leave my office now.”

Nile had watched in satisfaction as the man had stormed from the room, throwing his jacket down on the floor in protest. Nile couldn’t do much, but what he could do, he did. And as long as be didn’t rock the boat too much, nobody questioned him.

It was two days later, as he stood in the marketplace with Marie and the girls, that he spotted the man again, in a uniform he didn’t recognise, but with an insignia that he did. He had stared for a long moment, the questions multiplying in his brain, and he’d been about to go over and demand an explanation, when Marie took his hand, and complained that her back was hurting from the weight of the baby in her belly, and Nile had forgotten about the man who was no longer one of his soldiers, but still wore the insignia of the Military Police.


End file.
